the perfect places of sleep
by hopeintheproles
Summary: Sometimes she thinks they are too tired to be normal teenagers.


You are tired,

(I think)

Of the always puzzle of living and doing;

And so am I.

Come with me, then,

And we'll leave it far and far away—

(Only you and I, understand!)

You have played,

(I think)

And broke the toys you were fondest of,

And are a little tired now;

Tired of things that break, and—

Just tired.

So am I.

But I come with a dream in my eyes tonight,

And knock with a rose at the hopeless gate of your heart—

Open to me!

For I will show you the places Nobody knows,

And, if you like,

The perfect places of Sleep.

-e.e. cummings

Sometimes she thinks they are too tired to be normal teenagers. Normal seemed to fly out the window when Polly was taken away and locked up in home for rebellious teenagers and Jason Blossom was murdered in cold blood in their quiet, sleepy All-American town.

Even now, when she knows that her mother will be away all day and night at a conference and her father is working late, it is the perfect opportunity for her and Jughead to sneak upstairs and roll around on her bed and breathe perfect happy sighs in between naughty kisses.

Tugging on his hand she pulls the two of them into her room, and she while she knows that he is doing much better since he started crashing at Archie's she can still see the harsh bags under his eyes and the look of bone-exhaustion that has taken up permanent residence on his face.

It's a look she knows well, she's started to see it on her own face these days. And she wonders now more than ever if she's starting to look the part of crazy that so many people whisper about behind her back.

Jughead has always been tense in her house, it was never a place he was made to feel welcome by her parents, and it's not a place Betty feels entirely welcome these days, but with both of her parents out of the house she can see the rigid line of his spine is less tense.

Betty closes the door to her room, not for any particular reason except for that this way it feels like they are encased in their own private world. She's always surprised at how the two of them manage to feel like the only people in a crowded room. She's surprised at him a lot these days, mostly due to the fact that she can't believe how quickly she is falling for him.

And falling for him in the midst of a crisis - both of them unable to do much as they both stand on the sidelines and watch both of their families shatter and fall apart. But she will feel his hand in hers and she is able to stand a little bit taller as long as he is there with her.

For however long he will have her, she will have him.

Betty sighs and pulls her hair out of her trademark ponytail as Jughead stares around at her room, even though there is nothing new to see, she figures he does it out of discomfort.

Smiling lightly Betty walks up to him and he stops his fidgeting almost immediately, content to look back at her. Betty raises a hand and places it against his face, her thumb brushing against the dark purple under his eyes. His eyes flutter closed briefly before they open again and continue to stare at her like she's the only thing keeping him afloat.

"You look so tired, Juggie." She whispers, her eyebrows knotting in concern. She feels helpless, because there is nothing she can do to help this beautiful, broken boy in front of her.

Chuckling darkly, Jughead's hands come up to grip her shoulders, fingers brushing against the harsh line of her collarbones.

"I could say the same thing for you Bets, we're not exactly the picture of health these days."

Betty stares down at his chest, trying to fight against the helpless feeling she hates so much. She feels a well of emotion begin to crawl up her throat and she tries to swallow it down, not wanting to create another tense moment for the both of them.

But Jughead knows her well, can read every little sigh and shake of her head for what it truly is. There is no denying that.

"Hey," He whispers back in concern, one hand coming up to grip her neck, fingers grazing against the base of her head.

Betty stares up into his blue eyes, feeling like the only one she could ever truly see is him. The tears well up and she can't help letting one leak out against her will.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

He wipes away the tear as he frowns down at her, moving close into her space and Betty begins to feel buoyed by his nearness. His scent. The feel of his hands on her.

Gripping onto the lapels of his sheepskin jean jacket Betty inhales a shaking breath.

"I just-" She starts, her voice cracking, "I feel like I'm drowning sometimes, Juggie. And I don't."

She has to stop for a second and gather herself, there is a sob waiting in her throat that she doesn't want to let out. It wouldn't be fair.

Shaking her head as if clearing away cobwebs she looks up into his concerned eyes, waiting patiently for her to keep going.

"I don't want to bring you down with me." She finally manages to say, and she sees Jughead swallow, his adam's apple bobbing.

He's quick to reassure her, "You won't, Betty. I'm not gonna let that happen."

She smiles lightly at her own statement being parroted back at her. They are all each other has, and while there are other friends and allies in her life she knows truly this is the only person who is willing to go all the way to the end and back with her. Through the truly dark paths they might have to tread, Jughead will be there. She knows that.

Nodding her head up at him she can see the relief on his face.

"Okay." She says simply, believing him. She is one of the only ones who ever seem to believe him.

He leans down and presses his lips against her lightly, and Betty responds in kind. Wrapping her arms around his neck Betty exhales through her nose as his hands wrap around her waist. Angling her head slightly to the right they both open to each other at the same time and their tongues brush lightly against the other's before they are both pulling back.

Pressing a chaste kiss against his lips once more Betty lowers her hands to his coat and pushes the material off his shoulders. He wears his classic flannel underneath and a simple black t-shirt. Shrugging off her cardigan she grabs his hand and leads them both to her bed.

She slips underneath the covers and Jughead wordlessly follows behind her. She likes him here, in her bed, with her. His beanie slips off his head as he rests in against her pillow and Betty, on her side, reaches up and runs a hand through his jet black hair.

She knows he is lonely, just like she is, and can see the relief that flutters over his face at the contact. He is starved for touch, sexual or not, he has moored himself on an island all by himself for years and there was no one who thought to reach out. But he has her now.

Her fingernails scratch against his scalp and he looks at her with eyes that are open and vulnerable. He won't say it, thinking perhaps he is cursed, but she knows he is telling her that he loves her. That there are perhaps four people on this earth that he loves and she is one of them. It is a very precious position to be in.

Betty can't help letting him see the love on her face for him, and his mouth quirks up at the corners lightly before he is pulling her close. Betty buries her face in the space where his chest meets his neck and feels his arms around her, hands on her back.

He kisses her forehead once before his head goes slack on the pillow and Betty feels herself being pulled under a similar spell with him, going to that perfect place of sleep where nothing bad can get them for at least a little while.


End file.
